


Much Loved

by StrangeMischief



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-10-26 10:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20741042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangeMischief/pseuds/StrangeMischief
Summary: “No, it’s fine,” Tony broke in quickly. “I need the trip to get myself sorted before you steal my breath away,” he added, teasingly, smoothing over his earlier hastiness. “Besides, it’s been a while since I took one of my babies out for a spin.”





	Much Loved

**Author's Note:**

> As always, enjoy :3

_ Much Loved _

_ _

Stephen swatted Peter’s fingers away from his loose cuff links and shifted his cell phone from one ear to the other. “The reservation is in thirty minutes, Tony,” he sighed, glancing at the mantel clock. “There’s no way you can make it to the restaurant by then. Just let me call them and move it to a different day. I won’t be disap-”

Tony scoffed from the other end of the line, and, in front of Stephen, Peter’s face twisted into an exasperated expression and his dark eyes rolled in disbelief. “You’d be salty about it for _at least _two weeks,” the teen scoffed, nimbly snapping Stephen’s cuff links into place before the older man could swipe at him again.

“If you’re about to say you won’t be disappointed, I’m going to need you to stop right there,” Tony interrupted. “You’ve been planning this for months. There are no Avenger meetings, no interdimensional crisis, Pep’s bumped any appearances I’d need to make, the world’s not ending, and Peter…isn’t out doing something stupid? _Probably_ not. Should I check? FRIDAY, touch base with Karen. See if Pete has-”

“No, no,” Stephen broke in hurriedly. “He’s fine. I just saw him.”

“Doing what?” Tony asked, clearly confused. “It’s too early for patrols. He’s not visiting you and Wong, is he? Doesn’t the kid and his Aunt have some kind of Meatloaf Monday or Taco Tuesday thing going on?”

Panic flared through Stephen’s chest, and he shot a quick look at the young man in question, who bit his lip shrugged. “He was just jotting down some notes for a speech,” Stephen dismissed, pleased he managed to keep his voice smooth and nonchalant. His eyes drifted over to the spiral notebook and Iron Man pencil on the coffee table Peter had been writing with only moments ago. It was only a _half _lie. “He and his Aunt _will,_” Stephen shot Peter a pointed look, “be having dinner together.”

“Good, good. I’m driving over now,” Tony muttered, the sound of a car door slamming shut followed by the smooth rev of an engine bursting to life filtering in from the background. “No sense in taking the suit to go across town.”

“Are you sure? I can just portal over there and-”

“No, it’s fine,” Tony broke in quickly. “I need the trip to get myself sorted before you steal my breath away,” he added, teasingly, smoothing over his earlier hastiness. “Besides, it’s been a while since I took one of my babies out for a spin.”

“Your emotional attachment to your cars concerns me,” Stephen laughed, fumbling to tie his bow tie with one unsteady hand, glaring at Peter darkly when the teen rose to help. “But if you’re sure, I don’t mind meeting you there.”

Peter gave Stephen a hard stare before nodding over his shoulder at something. A flash of scarlet – the Cloak, Stephen realized – whipped around him from behind and wound its way around the hand struggling with the tie, yanking it down to rest at Stephen’s side. Peter snagged the slip of fabric before it hit the ground and pocketed it, producing a clip-on tie in its place with a sheepish smile.

On the other end of the phone, Tony chuckled. “Yes, I’m sure. But don’t worry, babe, you’ll always be my number one ride.”

“Tony!” Stephen sputtered, feeling his ears redden while Peter turned a startling shade of green. “I appreciate the title” he huffed, though the smile pulling on his lips was evident in his tone. “It’s incredibly romantic of you.”

Tony laughed warmly, the rich sound of it dancing delightfully across Stephen’s ear. “I love you, Steph-”

The line dropped, and Peter’s head shot up in confusion, hands leaving Stephen’s perfectly pinned bowtie. “What happened?” he asked, a tinge of worry carrying over into his voice. “Where’d Mister Stark go?”

“I think he let his phone die again,” Stephen sighed, throwing his phone onto the sofa, shaking his other hand free of the Cloak’s grip. “The man can build an Iron Man suit out of scrap rocket metal in a desert cave, but can’t plug in his damn phone when it’s about to shut off.” He glanced at the wall clock, noting the time, and an uncharacteristic shock of fear flew through him like a bolt. “Maybe it’s a sign.”

“It’ll be fine, Mister Strange,” Peter disagreed with an encouraging smile. He snagged his notebook from the coffee table and tore the piece of notebook paper he’d been writing on out of its binding, folding it into neat quarters. “Take this with you, but don’t try and memorize it. Just…speak from the heart? Act natural.”

Stephen snorted.

“I know, I know. It’s stupid,” Peter sighed, shoving the paper into Stephen’s breast pocket. “But it’s the best I got. I’ve never done this before either, you know. I mean, why am _I _the one giving you advice?”

“I don’t know anyone that _has _done this,” Stephen admitted with a frown. “No one I know anymore, that is.”

Peter’s smile wilted briefly before his eyes grew bright with excitement. He rolled up on the balls of his feet, clearly overtaken with an idea. “Hey, Mister Strange?”

“What is it, Peter?” Stephen asked.

“If you need a best man on your side at the wedding and Mister Wong doesn’t want to do it, there’s always me. And if you _do _pick me, I can help you write your toast too.” Peter picked his Iron Man pencil up off the table and twirled it with a mischievous grin. “I _am _a speechwriter, after all.”

“Duly noted,” Stephen laughed.

\---

With the wind pulling at his hair, the evening air was far cooler than Stephen had expected. It wasn’t ideal by any means, but this was the only chance Stephen had left. The ring had been burning a hole in his pocket for months. If he didn’t do it now, he didn’t think he could ever muster the strength to try and ask again.

To come _here _again.

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to do this,” Stephen whispered, voice already thick with tears. He toed the grass beneath him anxiously. In his right coat pocket, tense fingers flipped the smooth metal band back and forth across his palm. “It’s harder than I thought it’d be. For a while, I was worried about doing it at the restaurant where people might look, where you might say _no _right to my face, but now…that all seems small and silly in comparison to everything that’s happened.”

“Peter wrote down a really sweet speech for me,” Stephen laughed, smoothing out the tear-stained piece of notebook paper. “He-He was so excited when he found out, Tony. Do you know what he said?” Stephen asked softly and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “He said, ‘I never thought either of you would ever find the courage to do it.’ Can you believe that? Kid’s a real ass sometimes_._”

Stephen turned his face to the side, closing his eyes against the harsh brush of wind against his face. It was cool to the touch but did nothing to soothe the burning anger that reared up in his chest. “_You’re_ an ass. Do you know that? You’re an asshole for making me do this. For making me do it _here; _for making me do it _now; _for making me do it _this way._ And this,” Stephen swung his arms wide open, gesturing broadly at the empty space around him, “is only _one _of the many, many, _many _times you were an asshole and…and, _damn you, _Tony, I love you!”

Stephen laughed weakly and swiped some stray tears from his cheeks, eyes firmly fixed on the ground below. “I love you, Tony. I love you, and I want you to be my family. I want us to grow old and bitter. _Together_. And even though you’re an asshole, and _I’m _an asshole, and it’ll be hard not to smother each other in our sleep sometimes I…I want that. I want you. With me. Forever.”

Stephen pulled his pant leg up and knelt down, one knee pressed into the freshly planted grass below. “I love you, Anthony Edward Stark,” he choked, so overtaken with emotion it was a struggle to even pull his hand from his pocket. “I love you, and I couldn’t bear knowing I could have spent what was left of my life being yours in every way but was just too afraid to take the chance.”

Stephen’s hand rose into the air, carefully unfurling to reveal a simple silver band sitting in the center of his palm.

“Would you marry me?”

Silence reigned.

Stephen let the ring slip from between his trembling fingers as mournful sobs wracked his body. “Tony, Tony, Tony,” he sobbed brokenly, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. “Why, Tony? _Why? _I can’t-I don’t know what to do. What do I do? _Tell me what to do._”

Sea-green eyes, ringed red from crying, settled on the smooth stone before him. A single, scarred hand stretched out and pressed against its gleaming surface, quivering fingers splayed over the elegant script that named the poor soul long since buried beneath.

“We never got the chance,” he whispered.

\---

Peter hovered anxiously in the background, not uttering a word until Stephen stood from the ground and made his way back towards the boy. “He would have said yes,” Peter mumbled, eyes glassy. “He would have said yes and then been upset you beat him to it.”

Stephen made a muffled sound that was a heart-wrenching cross between a bitter laugh and a mangled cry. “I know.”

With nothing more to say, the pair retreated, leaving the simple silver band on the top of a glossy marble headstone that declared in somber script: _Anthony Edward Stark. Much Loved._


End file.
